Progress
by A. Keller
Summary: The League meets an extraordinary young man and woman (after their failed kidnapping of Mr. Hyde) who force the LXG to question everything they ever knew about time - and to work together to prevent one man from destroying it. Some Jekyll/OC. T for language.
1. Chapter 1

**Progress**, a League of Extraordinary Gentlemen fanfic

By A. Keller

* * *

**Chapter 1**

* * *

In the bookcase-filled, cherry-paneled Round Room, Mycroft Holmes set his teacup into its saucer. He eyed Rodney Skinner - who, to any untrained eye, was no more than a floating white face over a leather trench coat - with disgust and suspicion.

"You mean to say that Edward Hyde, one of the most dangerous men on earth, was _taken_ from you?"

Skinner scratched an invisible collarbone in embarrassment. "I suppose that is wha' I mean to say, sir."

Mycroft hung his face in his palm. Then, after a very deep breath, he looked back up with a frustrated, playful gleam in his eyes.

"Well, this should be rather interesting, then, shouldn't it?"

THREE DAYS EARLIER

A huge, knife-shaped silver vessel, the _Nautilus_, sat at port outside good old London Town, attracting more than a little attention from passerby. The white ship gleamed in the daylight as a floating anachronism, a beacon of the future. In town, its crew and passengers were enjoying a day's rest. Skinner did his best to paint up his skin and headed for the pubs. Tom Sawyer, the youngest, a naïve but warmhearted American, was led about the city by Mrs. Mina Harker for sightseeing. Henry Jekyll had made sure his vials of elixir were locked up on the ship. He wandered aimlessly and alone through the place he once called home. The Captain, Nemo, preferred to stay on his ship, "just to be sure" everything was pristine and running exceptionally well.

Mina and Tom sat on a bench near the base of the statue of Horatio Nelson, looking out over Trafalgar square. Tom whistled.

"I've got to hand it to you," he said, "England may be just a little island, but damned if it's not _old_."

Mina let out a closed-mouthed chuckle. "Hundreds of years of history." She looked over at him, teasing. "Your America has some growing up to do."

"Hey, watch it." He shoved her lightly and laughed.

There was a sudden, bright flicker of light as every single one of the electric streetlamps in the area surged simultaneously. They went out for a moment, then flicked back on and resumed their old electric hum. Tom and Mina looked around.

"That was odd," Mina said.

Tom shrugged. "Maybe your country is just taking a little breather, in its old age."

"Oh, stop it." They laughed.

But on the other side of town Rodney Skinner, preparing to take down his fifth Guinness of the day with a rowdy group of new "friends," witnessed the same event. The electric lights in the pub surged and flickered, and with a _pop_ one of the bulbs above the bar burst. Broken glass scattered around bottles of liquor.

"Bloody-" the bartender threw his rag to the ground. "You see, that's the problem with these electric lights, the buggers are never reliable. I just wiped this down a second ago…" He moved to clean the mess. Skinner took a moment to look around in (drunken) confusion, then shrugged and downed his drink.

* * *

In a dark London alley, there was a low flash of blue light. Then the sound of two pairs of feet hitting the ground and a chorus of groans and releases of breath.

"Jesus, that was a rough one," said a young male voice.

"Goddamn it, turn of the century, and we hit a point of flux." A slightly older, alto female voice. Both had American accents. "I feel like this happens every time we get something in England. Mother_fucker_."

There in the alleyway, panting and wincing, had appeared a young man and woman in clothes England wouldn't see for at least the next 100 years. The young man, leaning on his arm against the wall, looked lanky but strong, wearing a wide black sweatband around a thick shock of dark brown hair. He was uniformed in what looked like a modified suit – but oddly squared off and off-centered at the lapel, black, with a navy dress shirt and an electric yellow tie that was so thin it could have passed as a noose. The young woman standing next to him straightened out her posture and tucked a gleaming silver object back in her pocket. Her brassy hair was pulled back in a tight bun, covered with a thick white headband. She was tall, toned in the shoulders and fierce and athletic in the face, clad in a white button down shirt, dark gray jacket, suspenders and skinny black pants. A long, narrow sword was sheathed at her hip. She looked down at her clothes.

"Oh oops. I'm going to get burned at the stake if I walk out wearing this."

The young man caught his breath, straightened his strange tie and stood next to her. "Aw, it's 1900, not 1492. You'll be fine."

"I'm wearing _pants_. I'll be murdered. Here. Give me the com, I'll call Cassandra." She put out her hand.

The young man reached into a pouch on the holster weighing on his belt and retrieved a strange black device. He handed it to the young woman. She fiddled with a few knobs and buttons and finally leaned her face over the device.

"Transporter contacting base, we've reached our point. Is Cassandra there?"

A voice picked up on the other end. "Hey, is this officer Ryder's transporter? Can you –" "- No, come on, they asked for me, Gill, give me-" another voice fought for the receiver. "Cass, you can't just—" "Give me!" Crackling noises.

"Hey, guys. What's up?" the second voice said victoriously.

"Hey," said the young woman. "We forgot to change. Can you send us some camo?"

"Sure thing, babe. Sending."

A light humming noise, and fully furnished late Victorian outfits materialized on the two in the place of their old garb. The young woman's hair came down out of her bun and fell almost to her waist.

"Thanks. That's all. Transporter out, awaiting further orders." And she shut off the device.

They examined themselves again, satisfied with their dress.

"Okay," said the young man, "Good to go."

"Can I see the name again?"

The young man handed her some sort of ID card. She examined it.

"That's ominous. Doctor Henry Jekyll, _Physicite brutus_." She handed it back to him. "Hope we're not dealing with Jekyll and Hyde down here."

The young man laughed a little, uneasily. "Give me a break, KC." They walked out of the alley and into the street.

* * *

Henry Jekyll had taken to sitting on the curb by the cobblestone, head in his hands. Edward Hyde pressed him.

_You know where it is, we've been there so many times before. Just a little bit of blood, Henry, that's all I need._

"No, you bastard." Jekyll hissed to himself. "Y-you know I can't, anyway, I left every vial on the ship."

_Don't be stupid. We share this body of yours. I know you brought one, just one, and put it in your coat pocket_.

"Shut up." He bit his lip, pushing his fingers through his hair.

_Blood, Henry. All of those despicable whores, all of their blood. I've missed tearing them to pieces._

"We just got back home, I'll not let you dirty my hands with blood." His face took on the gleam of a cold sweat.

_You're worthless! You mean nothing without me, and you know it. Drink it._

"No! No, no, no…" Shaking, he dug his fingernails into his scalp.

* * *

The young man and woman from the alley had rounded a corner and were making their way down the street, past carriages and chatting passers-by.

"We can't just ask people if they know him," said the young man. "What if he's been terrorizing the city? What if we're implicated?"

"We've got to do _something_. I'm not going to wander around London all day in hopes of finding him."

"Fine, fine." The young man took the ID card from earlier and extracted the black and white image from it. The two approached an older, bearded fellow.

"Excuse me, sir," said the young man. "Do you know this man? Henry Jekyll?"

The man touched his beard and nodded. "Yes, Jekyll. Fine man, my nephew knew him. But I believe he moved out of London a year or so ago, for academic reasons or what have you." He eyed them suspiciously. "What does a young couple like you need from him?"

The young man laughed awkwardly. "We're not a couple. We just need to ask him a few questions, that's all."

"Well, I can't help you, I'm very sorry. Good day." The man made off down the street.

"Could have been worse, I guess," said the young woman.

The young man massaged his temples. "Oh, man, why would they send us to London if he's moved out? I… Are you sure your coordinates are right?"

"Hey. Of course they are. London, September 12th, 1900. That's what I was given."

The young man hissed between his teeth and turned around anxiously. The streets swam with black- and gray- suited, pale, sideburned Englishmen. Jekyll could be anywhere, he could be everywhere, he could be nowhere. The young man continued to turn in circles as he pressed his palms over his face. He stopped, peered forward across the street.

Then he froze.

"Lucky," he said. He tugged on the young woman's sleeve. "Constantine, look."

She turned to see the man from the photograph, Jekyll in the flesh, sitting on a curb with his knees at his chest.

"All right!" She said. "Jesus, is he okay?"

The young man pulled a small hypodermic syringe out of his belt-pouch and slipped it into his jacket pocket. He exhaled nervously, preparing.

"In broad daylight," he said, and they began to move warily toward the man. "Here we go. Doctor Jekyll."

The two crossed the street and approached the doctor, who appeared to be talking to himself. His hair was a dark, fiery red and his skin was incredibly pale, glazed with sweat. Regardless, the young woman raised both eyebrows and let out a hum of approval. The young man elbowed her in censure. They stopped next to the doctor.

Dr. Jekyll didn't notice them. The young man cleared his throat loudly and the doctor jumped and looked up as if he'd broken from a trance.

"I – I'm sorry," he said shakily. "May I be of service?" Then his eyes moved off them for a moment and, as if someone had suggested something incredibly rude, he said sharply, "No!"

The young man and woman looked at each other.

"Doctor Jekyll," said the young man, assuming an authoritative stance. He dove into protocol. "Please don't transform at this time. My name is officer Rotto Ryder, of the Division of Varos Affairs. It's my job to bring you in for trial regarding the use of your abilities for criminal behavior. You have the right to remain silent."

_You see, Henry? Someone has found you out. You're no more than a vessel for me. They'll hurt us, Henry. Quick, drink!_

Stunned, the doctor tried to fight off Hyde and comprehend the strange couple standing before him. "What are you talking about? You're Americans… how… who do you work for?"

"We're from the future," said the young man.

"Rotto, don't confuse him," said the young woman.

Doctor Jekyll reared back. "You're completely mad. What have I done?"

"Apparently a lot," said the young woman. "A lot of murder, a lot of destruction. Ringing any bells?"

_Do it, you swine! Save us!_

Jekyll went white. "Y-you have the wrong man." One hand reached slowly inside his jacket. Rotto looked at his partner and she nodded back at him.

In a flash, Jekyll grabbed his vial of formula, removed the stopper and poured it down his throat. Officer Rotto Ryder moved just as fast. Before the bottle was completely empty the young man had stabbed the small syringe through Jekyll's coat and into his shoulder, injecting all the liquid therein. He ripped it out and Jekyll cried out in pain, pushing him away and doubling back, still seated. Then, after a moment, he looked back up at the two people standing over him. Streetgoers continued to pass by.

"Look what you've done," he said, quietly, menacingly. "In a few moments, everyone on this street is in danger. Especially you lot. You'll see." He winced in pain and leaned back. He held there for a moment, waiting.

The doctor's eyes flew open. Nothing had happened. He looked up at his attackers in sheer terror and they gathered him off the ground, one under each arm. Weakness spread through his body.

"What have you done?" He said. "What have you done? Oh God…"

People began to stare as they effectively dragged him off. The young woman nodded at them to mind their own business. She faked an English accent.

"Just taking ol' dad back to therapy, don't worry about us; move along now," she said. They listened.

And the young officer Rotto Ryder and his assistant dragged a groaning, semi-conscious Henry Jekyll away down the street.


	2. Chapter 2

Progress, a League of Extraordinary Gentlemen fanfiction

By A. Keller

* * *

Chapter 2

* * *

Mina Harker paced back and forth through the _Nautilus_'s broad white conference room. Rodney Skinner leaned against one of the support beams behind her, captain Nemo stood with a hand on his sabre to her left, and Tom Sawyer leaned over the edge of the long table, resting on it with both hands.

"I told you someone should have gone with him!" Sawyer said, spinning around to face Mina. "He can't control himself, you all know that."

"He's a grown man," said Mina pointedly. "You should hardly judge the doctor by your own childish standards."

Sawyer pointed into her face. "Don't pull that on me. Nemo may be the captain here, but you know that Quartermain appointed _me_ second-in-command. And we're talking about Jekyll here, he has Hyde seething under his skin at all times."

Mina looked away. "I know. Forgive me." She continued pacing.

"Aw, don't all get your panties up into a bunch," said Skinner. "He's probably having a rollickin' good time. Probably made his way over to meet some ladies. Give the man a break."

Nemo stepped forward, hands behind his back. "Mr. Skinner, you mustn't try to wave away the seriousness of the issue. If Jekyll is away from us and makes the mistake of letting the beast loose, there's no telling what he could do to the city. Or what could be done to him."

"I was just sayin'."

"Yes, I have an especially bad feeling about that," Mina said. "If anyone has recognized Jekyll, they might go after him for his formula. That is, if they know him like we do."

"But who could know that he's Hyde?" Said Sawyer.

"There's no telling that," said Nemo. "But I am sure that somebody out there does."

There was a silence as each member of the League delved into thought.

"I don't suggest we go looking for him ourselves," Nemo finally said.

Mina bit her lip. "We should consult Mycroft, then?"

"Not that crazy old bloke," said Skinner.

"And _you'll_ be the one to tell him, Skinner, since you can't seem to take this seriously," Mina said, her eyes biting.

"Whether he's broken loose or someone's taken him, we'll have to formulate a plan of attack," said Sawyer. "Maybe Mycroft has a werewolf up his sleeve or something."

"Shall we?" Said Nemo, nodding to the others.

They returned the nod, and moved out of the room, toward the front deck.

* * *

Jekyll resurfaced with a gasp. The warm off-white walls of a standard Victorian bedroom greeted him. He was slumped on the floor against one of the walls, weak, with no recollection of how he came to be there. He heard muffled voices from outside the door. A fireplace crackled on the other end of the room. An inn? He strained his ears, trying to hear what the voices were saying.

"… just some guy. HQ literally told us nothing except class, type and mode. Are we supposed to be afraid of him? Are we not supposed to worry about it? I just want to know what they expect us to do."

"I'm sure they want us to wait for orders."

"But that's what _you_ do. They're supposed to tell me who I'm dealing with and then I _make_ the orders. Dammit, I wish I'd thought about this earlier."

"_Hey_. Calm down, Rotto. We can handle this."

"Okay. Sorry, sorry. We'll just let the IDT load. We'll have a nice chat with everyone, show them our guy, and they'll give us what we need and we'll move on."

"If they'll _give_ us what we need, that is."

Jekyll's head throbbed. He pressed a palm against his temple. The conversation through the door sounded like it was being conducted in a different language. Then there was a sharp pain through his right shoulder, and suddenly he remembered.

The strange young man and woman. They knew he had Hyde. They attacked him, they injected him with something – they _kidnapped_ him. But at once he was puzzled. He felt around his person, as frantically as he could with the small amount of energy he had, for the vial of elixir he had taken with him from the ship. His pockets were empty. He looked at his hands, which trembled only slightly. He remembered drinking the whole vial. Why was he fully clothed, why had he found himself in a warm inn? Where was Edward Hyde?

He strained his ears to listen for the deep, hateful voice that so frequently occupied his mind. Nothing. Another sharp pang in his head caused him to cry out, quietly, in pain, and he leaned forward.

The conversation in the hall halted at the sound. Outside the door, the young woman and officer Ryder looked at one another.

"Well, he's awake now," said Rotto.

The young woman stared at the door for a moment, then turned back to face Rotto.

"I'm going to see if he can tell us anything. I have some really uncomfortable hunches. I'm glad you don't, but I do." She opened the door.

"KC, he could be really dangerous," Rotto whispered.

"He's tranquilized, he can't do anything," she said, and she entered the room, closing the door behind her.

The young woman came in to see Dr. Jekyll slumped to the floor, holding his temples between his thumb and ring finger. He breathed heavily, clearly in a lot of physical pain.

She knelt beside him. "How are you doing, Doctor?" She said. She placed an arm on the wall by his head.

With surprising intensity, his eyes raised to look at her. They held, dark, icy and red-rimmed. "First you stab me with a syringe..." He said. "Then you ask me how I am? What have you done to me, why?"

She stayed crouched beside him, ignoring his anger and gazing at the floor. "Doctor, I'm sorry we had to do that. What I'm told is that you're a Class L — a _Physicite brutus_, God knows how — and you're too dangerous around us. The order was to tranquilize you. I'm just here to keep your _Brutus_ behind bars for now and transport Officer Ryder when he needs me to."

"You expect me to understand all your technical jargon?" Said Jekyll, his voice biting. "I know a man like you. His science is beyond me. I've given up on science, like I gave up on everything else." He looked up at her. "What did you say I was?"

"Type and mode. _Physicite brutus_. It means you're one of the most powerful of your kind," she said. "Now I have a question. What do you do? You must be based in size manipulation. Tell me about it."

He made a kind of short, hissing, cynical laugh. "Oh? I thought you knew about my _other self_."

"Dr. Jekyll." The young woman looked him in the eye.

"Henry," he said. "Please, you owe me no reverence."

His posture sang out self-hatred. She put a hand on his shoulder bravely. "We don't know. Please tell me. It means nothing to me, I promise you I've seen much worse."

He didn't make a sound, just bit his lip and looked away like a child. Then, "I would like to know your name."

"It's Kat Constantine."

Dr. Jekyll's mouth twisted into a dark smile. "The emperor who ruined Rome?" Kat nodded. He looked away. "Years ago I tried to become a chemist, to make a medicine that could wash away sin, even thoughts of it. I finished one, after all, and prepared to make myself into a truly good man. It did the opposite. Whenever consumed, all my worst is set free. I'm a walking sin, capable of destruction I never even thought was possible. That is what I am now." He was silent for a few seconds.

So was Kat. "Shit. You are _that_ Doctor Jekyll, then."

"I am _what_ Doctor Jekyll? I'm sure I share a name with someone."

"People will learn about you for years to come."

He looked up at her again. "Oh? And will it be a happy remembrance?"

Constantine looked into his eyes, observing, rather sadly.

He turned again. "How could you possibly know such things, anyway?"

"That's something you do need to know, so you can understand why Rotto and I are here." Kat's eyes settled on her hand, and where it sat on his shoulder. "We're not from here, Henry Jekyll. I'm from America, but the America of the year two-thousand eleven. Rotto is from twenty-three oh-eight."

He recoiled slightly, tilting his head to look at her, eyes filled with intrigue and fear. "Don't play games with me. You can't travel through time."

"I can." She leaned closer, boldly. She moved her thumb over the fabric on his shoulder. "I have to say, you are one of the most fascinating people I've encountered so far."

Another short, cynical, nervous laugh. He stared. "Changeful, aren't you? You don't know how hideous I can be."

"I didn't say pretty. I said fascinating."

He stared again and swallowed. The blood was beginning to flow into his face again, and she could feel the muscles in his shoulder tensing. His breathing took on weight. He was holding himself back.

"You're testing me," he said.

"Maybe," she said. "I know you're an inhibited man. It's funny when you talk about 'sin', because those Christian, Victorian values are so far from me. Does that bother you, Doctor?"

His eyes didn't come off her face. "No, much to your chagrin. Christianity is no longer capable of saving me."

Kat leaned closer, cruelly. "But you still hold back, huh."

Jekyll was biting back his breaths, eyes wandering fearfully over the young woman's face. Hyde wasn't speaking to him, and it terrified him. Was it the tranquilizer? Or was this what Hyde wanted?

"What are you trying to do, Emperor Constantine?" He whispered.

"Don't be an ass," she said, centimeters from his lips. "Live a little."

He let go and leaned forward sharply, pressing his mouth against hers, and she kissed back. She moved off his mouth and kissed up his jawbone, putting her teeth on his ear, then promptly pulled away. She grinned mischievously. He gazed at her, out of breath.

"The more you lock this part of yourself away, the more Hyde is going to destroy you," she said. "I was testing you." She kissed him again, gently, and stood. "And your jumbled Victorian values. I have to report back to Rotto about your condition. Goodbye, Henry Jekyll."

She left him sitting there, on the floor, where he was when she first came in.

* * *

On the _Nautilus_, Skinner and Sawyer sat playing cards while Mina read a book and Nemo sat by the window, meditating.

Skinner lay down two cards. "Read it well, mate."

Sawyer released a frustrated breath and lay his cards down on the table. Skinner laughed and collected a few coins from the middle. Sawyer leaned back in his chair. He looked around the room. It felt somewhat empty, with just the four of them.

"Hey – you guys ever think about what it would be like… if the old man was still with us? Old Quartermain?" Sawyer said.

"All the time," said Skinner, taking a drink of scotch. "Can't always tell, but I really miss that plucky bastard."

"I do as well," said Mina, not looking up from her book. "Allan had somewhat of a presence on this ship that feels quite empty now."

"Yeah," Sawyer said, looking down at his cards. He remembered leaving his life as a poor boy in Missouri, his adventures on the river, for the Secret Service, and the weight of all that responsibility on his shoulders. He remembered the sense of confidence and contentment Quartermain had instilled in him, a young, wily American who could really be something, with the right support. The best thing he could have ever shown Quartermain was a shot that the old man never got to see. Sawyer hung his head.

Then Nemo turned around, having broken from his trance. "Is anyone aware of the time?" he said.

Sawyer looked at the clock on the wall. "Just past three, captain."

"Ah, Skinner, would you mind turning on the radio transmission device? A broadcast is about to come through."

Mina gave Skinner a strange look, and he shrugged. "Don't know what he's saying half the time. The what?"

"It's the silver knob on that brown box on the wall," said Nemo. "Turn it counterclockwise."

Skinner went to the device and did so. A crackling noise sounded, and then voices came from the box as if from a gramophone. Everyone looked a little startled, except for Skinner, who wandered back to his seat.

"Nothing surprises me anymore," he said.

"A device created from Marconi's invention," Nemo said, gesturing to the radio. "Now, are you all familiar with the work of a man named Tesla?"

"The man who worked with Edison?" Said Mina.

"Not quite," said Nemo, stepping toward the radio. "_Nikola_ Tesla has produced many great inventions. I have even worked with him several times in the past. But at this time I am not interested in him."

The group watched Nemo in fascination, the soft crackle of the radio punctuating the background.

"Years ago, when Tesla was just a child, he had an older brother who was supposedly killed in an accident. Dane Tesla was his name. But curiously, just recently, a man emerged into the field of science with groundbreaking new ideas – none other than Dane Tesla himself. He had faked his death at that very young age and disappeared from society, and has apparently dedicated his life to science ever since. Today he is announcing the plans for his latest scientific endeavor one which he says will change the future forever."

Each member of the league turned his or her attention to the radio. A voice sounded through the static.

Thousands of miles away, Dane Tesla stood on a podium before an enormous crowd, a strange microphone-like device suspended by his head. The crowd listened in rapt attention.

"Time," said Tesla. He was an enormous, broad-shouldered man, with the same notable Serbian facial characteristics as his younger brother, but with a distinct, puckered scar on his right cheek. "The passage of time, that slow grinding of sand in an hourglass, is what keeps us from the wonders, the conveniences, the cures of the future.

"We can only do so little with the technology, with the knowledge that we possess today. All the while, we still cannot connect in our everyday lives with people across the globe, children are dying of crippling diseases, and we spend many a day traveling toward our destination when we all wish we could just appear where we want to be."

Mina held her head with one hand as she listened. "What could he possibly be getting at?" She said.

"We are trapped," said Tesla, "In the slow web of progress."

Nemo was completely silent, as if he held his breath. So was the crowd standing below Dane Tesla.

"But what if we could reach into the world of the future?" Tesla said, folding his hands behind his back. "What if we could stitch together the fabric of our present and the present of hundreds of years from now? Progress is like that long period of travelling to a destination. If we could connect with societies of our distant future, we could have all the cures, all the conveniences, all the astounding technology we need instantly and we would appear, without the wait, at our destination."

"You're sure he isn't mad?" Said Skinner. No one paid him any mind.

"A time machine is not what I propose," said Tesla on his podium. " I am currently completing a machine not to travel through time, but to _fold_ it. I will bring the world of the future to us, and we can do away with wistful notions of a faraway, seemingly ungraspable 'future' to our present. 'Future' and 'present,' gentlemen, will become one and the same."

The crowd erupted into cheers and rose to a standing ovation. Hats were thrown. Whistles sounded. Tesla stood there, proudly, and placed a hand on the podium. He would put an end to his brother's reign over science, once and for all.


End file.
